


Safe and Sound

by orphan_account



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Queen (Band)
Genre: (at first ;)), Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Female Brian May, Female Freddie Mercury, Female John Deacon, Female Roger Taylor, Genderbending, Hunger Games, Joan Deacon, Johanna Deacon, Multi, Polyamory, Queen band - Freeform, Regina Taylor - Freeform, brianna may - Freeform, capitol prostitution will be part of the plot, everything will not be descriptive only implied, fem!queen, genderbent, i still don’t know how to tag, just FYI, just a bunch of lesbians, king!au, later on but it will be important, maybe even enemies to allies to friends to lovers, trying to kill each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24232909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brianna, Joan, Regina, and Freddie come from all different walks of life. But the thing they have have in common is being Tributes of the 43rd Annual Hunger Games.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 23





	1. The Reaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan used to think she was ready for anything. All that mental preparation went down the drain as she heard her name called by the escort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya! it’s me again finally. i’ve just finished school for the year so i’m planning on writing more. i really hope this is well received because i loved writing it. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

Brianna woke up as she always did, to the sun rising above fields of crops into her eyes through her window. She winced and covered her face with her hands before sitting up in her creaky bed. Today was The Reaping. 

“One more year after this, that’s all I have to make it through,” Brianna thought with a bitter sigh. God, she hates being seventeen. Her name was entered seven times. She signed up for tessera one year to help out a loyal family that also worked on their land. But maybe the odds are in her favor.

Everyone in District Eleven was a worker, her calloused hands proved that enough, yet she considered herself lucky. Her parents earned themselves acres of land over the years due to her family working their way up from the bottom and then inheriting land their parents bought. 

Of course, most produce went to the Capitol. The Districts were merely just a means of supporting the lavish lifestyle of those rich enough. 

Brianna’s cat, Pixie, leapt up onto her lap before stretching and curling up on her pillow. She reached over and scratched between the feline’s ears as she purred happily. Then, only then, did Brianna allow herself to smile that day.

—

The first thing Joan did the morning of the Reaping after she woke up was retch into a bucket. Her hair was matted to her sweat slick face despite the cool air up in District Seven. Her stomach lurched again painfully as she emptied what little food she had eaten the previous night into the pail.

Julius was dragged up the stage by the escort and Peacekeepers screaming and crying. Joan couldn’t react; she was frozen in place. She tried to move or scream, tried to do anything, but she couldn’t. He screamed her name over and over again. 

She could’ve sworn her nightmare was real. Her younger brother’s name was drawn. He’s not even of age. Yet. He’s got two more years of safety. 

That was the one comfort Joan allowed herself. With her father dead, she had to take care of the family. That was more responsibility than any fifteen year old should have. And she would never let his name be drawn, ever.

“What’s wrong?” came Julius’s soft voice full of concern from the other side of the bed they shared. She turned to him and smiled as best she could while he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Nothing you need to worry about, go back to sleep.”

And he did just that.

—

She knew she’d be chosen. Not reaped, but she’d volunteer no matter what. Regina has been waiting for her chance to be a tribute since she could understand the concept.

Being from Four, she was technically a Career. Frowned upon by One and Two, but a Career nonetheless. Regina has been training since she knew how to swim. She’s lucky she got picked before her eighteenth year, she was only sixteen, she worked so hard all her life to be chosen. It’s the biggest honor she could ask for, being able to make her District proud. Except for the angry eighteen females that is.

Her proficiency with any weapons they had access to and her endurance set her apart from the rest. She was good at everything it seemed and her thirteen year old brother, Clark, envied her for that. Everyone did. Regina was swift and deadly, she knew how to survive. But more than that, she had the strive to live and win. More so than any other contenders for the District Four Female Tribute crown. 

She practically leapt out of bed and ran to the trainers. Her Reaping dress was laid out, teal like the ocean, and she grinned. The Tributes were always made out to look the best and outshine everyone else.

Now, Regina could show everyone what exactly she’s capable of.

—

The atmosphere in the Academy the night before still buzzed on Freddie’s skin. Her face still hurt from all the smiling she did last night. It wasn’t like she didn’t expect she’d be picked, no, the Academy doesn’t like surprises for their Tributes. She was told weeks prior once their scores were updated for the last time. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t expecting it. Freddie knew she was the most capable eighteen female in the Academy.

Her parents were so proud when she showed them the golden gem on her bracelet shining brightly amongst the others. Only then after they celebrated Freddie being the Tribute for District One did she allow herself to cry. Alone in her room, of course (Tributes were allowed to stay the night with their families one last time before they started their more vigorous training). 

She knew she’d win, that wasn’t a problem. What scared her was not the Arena or the blood on her hands, but what came after. She was trained for it of course. Everyone knew District One Victors were made into prostitutes. But she knew she’d have to bite her tongue, zone out, and slip into the right mind space to get the job done. Just as she was trained for.

Freddie was already awake when the stylists and her trainers came to wake her. Reaping day for her started at five am, many hours before the actual event. The preparation was vigorous and brutal, she was cleaned so thoroughly and scrubbed so hard she was sure she’d shine like the gemstones on her Academy bracelet.

The dress was yellow with a high slit. Her status as a beautiful and deadly object was already on proud display. They made her practice the way she volunteered for the upteenth time trying to get her voice to sound just right. Makeup was adjusted and the tribute with an Academy entourage set off to the District center.

Freddie knew her fate, she knew it since she was enrolled. Anything she was tasked with she’d achieve. The Games were no different. Just another thing for her to win. She would not end up as a cannon shot and a face in the sky. No, she’d bring honor to her family and more importantly, her District.

No matter the cost, she would win. 

...

“Maerla Fields.”

The escort’s voice booms loud through the speakers. So loud in fact it echoes through the square and makes Brianna’s ears ring. She should be happy it’s not her. She should be thanking Snow she wasn’t picked and was spared for yet another year. But not in this case.

Poor Maerla works on her land, she’s only twelve! Her name was in once. Hell, Brianna even has her name in an extra time to help her family with a tessera. Her father’s foot got caught in the haywire tractor’s blades as he was harvesting the crops. All his family could do was watch in horror as he was pulled under. 

Of course the May family still paid and provided for them, they weren’t monsters. The family got to take a year off. Or enough time til the mother felt guilty for the May’s kind nature. Brianna brought Maerla and her younger brother her old toys too. Kept them company as their mother grieved. She loved them as if they were her own siblings.

Brianna’s feet are moving before she has time to process what’s happening. Maerla’s name called still rang in her ears, making her blood boil. She almost couldn’t hear what she was screaming. 

“I volunteer as tribute!” she yelled hoarsely, as the Peacekeepers intercepted her. Brianna finally looked up at the girl she watched grow up on the stage. Her eyes were wide and her tear tracks shined. 

Brianna clambered up the steps and hugged her tightly, “You’re safe.” she whispered against Maerla’s hair before she was torn away from her grasp and taken to her family.

“Wow, how unexpected!” the Escort chortled in an almost condescending way, “what's your name dear?”

She scored her face of all expression and squared her shoulders as she stood up tall, looking over at the audience.

“My name is Brianna May.”

—

Joan used to think she was ready for anything. All that mental preparation went down the drain as she heard her name called by the escort. Her face paled and her breath hitched. She reached out to the person next to her and they reached back without hesitation, holding her close and stroking her hair.

“Joan Deacon, where are you darling?” the escort said with a saccharine sweetness. She would've believed it too if it wasn’t for the sneer they were wearing. The Peacekeepers has already seen the little commotion as she held her neighbor tightly and were making their way over. 

Her body racked with sobs as she made her way down the aisle up onto the stage. Joan couldn’t bring herself to look for her mother or brother in the crowd, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

“There you are!” the escort laughed, clapping her on the shoulder like she wasn’t just handed a death sentence. “Now, onto the boys.”

She couldn’t hear anything that was being said. Joan just looked to the trees and mountains out past the crowd and imagined herself running away. If anything, her death would rid her family of some burden.

Joan’s future was already determined and signed away with blood to entertain the Capitol, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going down without a fight.

—

The male tribute representing Four alongside Regina's name is Mark Austin. As he strolls up to the stage with an easy sort of confidence she decides right then and there that she hates him. She hates that she imagines herself tearing him apart in the Arena, she hates that she’s a Career. 

He has light blond hair and blue eyes like herself and most of Four, but he’s angular and not as pretty. The Capitol will have no use for him if he wins. Everyone knows what happens to the pretty Victors but they don’t talk about it. Sure they may be trained to do that in One, but it’s almost unheard of anywhere else.

“Almost,” Regina thinks angrily. She knows that when she wins, she’ll have a similar fate to those of District One.

Her own volunteering went as well as it could. She threw a wink over her shoulder at the seventeen year old who was reaped. The poor girl looked so relieved even though everyone knew she’d be saved by those trained.

Both Tributes stood proudly on stage with their hands linked above their heads showing solidarity as the crowd roared. Regina’s heart pounded in her chest. This was just a taste of what she’d experience once she’s a Victor, she smiled to herself.

—

The beat of silence as the name called sank in resonated inside of Freddie. They were taught to wait once the first name was called because no one was above fear. Then, she stepped forward gracefully in her heels and started walking with an arm raised.

“I volunteer!” She shouted, loud and proud with an almost smile hinting at her lips. 

Freddie almost dared to glance at the Academy trainers to see if she did well. She knew she did and she wouldn’t let them down. On the walk to the stage, she felt an arm brush hers. She didn’t need to look to know it was her brother Kareem. 

That touch communicated a thousand words. The ones that stuck out the most to her was “stay safe and win”. Now she was really smiling with the comfort knowing her brother supported her. By the time she climbed the steps to the platform, greeting the escort with a warm laugh and a hug, she was already smiling.

She stood there strong and noble. Her eyes scanning the crowd respectfully as they landed on her trainers. Freddie knew they weren’t as cold as they seemed on the outside. The curt nod she got was enough praise for her and made her heart soar with pride. She’d done it. The easy part was over.

Her District would get another Victor. One way or another, she knew she’d win. Or she’d die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowza amirite
> 
> but yeah, that’s the first chapter! again, i really hope this is well received because i really want to continue writing it. i have it pretty much all planned out roughly at this point. hopefully you enjoyed reading, feedback, kudos, and comments are welcome!


	2. The Preparation: Freddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She couldn’t force the thought away any longer. It was like the weight of that treacherous question was trying to break free. This was the last moment of peace she’d have, so she allowed the whisper to fall from her lips as she banged her head against the door as hard, yet as quietly, as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry this took a bit, with everything happening in america right now motivation was hard to come by. just a disclaimer, these next few chapters will be individual. the tribute parade and training chapters will be written like the first somewhat.

After the Reaping, it’s a customary tradition for loved ones to come say goodbye to the tributes alone in the Justice Building. Freddie however gave her final partings long before. She’d be back anyways, they wouldn’t even have time to miss her.

She draped herself over the plush and luxurious couch. That was of course strategic as well, her dress fell perfectly and her body was angled so her assets were well on display. Even though she had no visitors, Freddie still had to look good.

There was a short knock on the door before it opened. She sat bolt upright when her favorite trainer walked in. He sat down next to her while dusting off his suit. Freddie was staring at him with wide eyes, it was unheard of to have anyone, let alone a _trainer,_ visit a tribute. 

“Hello, Freddie.” Rhye said with a small smile.

She almost couldn’t control the grin spreading across her face before she covered her smile with her mouth. He frowned a bit and removed it gently. Rhye was Freddie’s favorite for a reason. He was young, fresh out of the Academy when she was in year fifteen. She always made fun of his strange name, not strange enough for the unique Capitol and One names but not normal enough for the others either. Rhye never went easy on her citing her potential as the reason. She probably wouldn’t have been the tribute if it wasn’t for his guidance.

“I came to tell you good luck.”

Freddie couldn’t keep the confusion at bay, she frowned slightly, “Why? You wished me well at the Tribute Ceremony.”

“Well, I’m doing it again.” He huffed, looking cross himself and moving to stand up. Freddie knew better than to question trainers. She looked down at her feet and muttered an apology. 

Rhye sighed from where he stood. “One hasn’t had a Victor in years. I came to tell you I believe it could be you.”

Freddie’s body gave an involuntary jolt like he punched her in the stomach. She blinked back tears and bit her lip to hide the smile threatening to form.

“All thanks to your wonderful training.” She stood and walked to him, silently asking permission for a hug. He gave a curt nod and wrapped his arms around her, even stroking her hair.

Rhye was always the one to treat her minor wounds or escort her to the medical wing. Trainers were never to allow the students to show signs of weakness, but he turned a blind eye to her silent and pained tears. His presence was always a comfort to her in a place that offered so little.

Freddie sniffled and pulled back slowly. “Thank you, Rhye, for everything.” He nodded with a smile and something akin to sadness in his eyes and wished her good luck one last time, leaving before the Peacekeepers came to escort him out.

She all but ran to the mirror after the door clicked shut, fixing her makeup and hair. The tributes would be escorted onto the train soon and there would be cameras. Though the ride was short since District One was so close to the Capitol, it was important to make a good appearance. No one was to know she was crying, she was not weak.

Freddie squared her shoulders and scored her face when the time came. This was supposed to be the easy part, before all of Panem got to sink their claws into her. She smiled and waved well enough on the platform, even blowing a kiss or two to the adoring crowd.

Once the doors closed, she excused herself politely to her quarters. The traveling wouldn’t last long, and Freddie intended to be alone with her thoughts the whole time. She couldn’t force the thought away any longer. It was like the weight of that treacherous question was trying to break free. This was the last moment of peace she’d have, so she allowed the whisper to fall from her lips as she banged her head against the door as hard, yet as quietly, as she could. 

“Did I make the right choice?”

...

The train, greeted by eager citizens cheering and screaming, pulled into the Capitol. The short ride was enough time for Freddie to clear her head. The escort knocked on her door to inform her that they arrived and were to go to their prep teams. She started walking before he even finished and was met by those who would help her.

They cooed over her hair and skin saying how well she was taken care of. Yet they traded whispers about her teeth, wondering why the Academy didn’t do anything. Ultimately they came to the conclusion to leave her teeth be.

Another on the team hushed them and told them she was from One so of course she’d be beautiful. Freddie didn’t like him already. His eyes were beady and staring a bit too long at her breasts. But she just smiled and thanked him. If she was to win, this would become the new normal.

The session didn’t take long, maybe an hour tops. When she looked in the mirror after, she gasped. How they could make Freddie look like a glowing goddess was beyond her. Her hair somehow flowed like water down her back and reflected light, it was so shiny and soft. She chalked it up to the Capitol and the magic like technology they had. 

The team left before her stylist walked in. She was a tall woman with her dark curly hair piled atop her head like a cloud dyed many different bright colors. Her dark skin was embedded with jewels and her face was tattooed with gold lines weaving together to form intricate designs. 

“My name is Kelinea and I’ll be your stylist.” The woman greeted cheerily, “Now, is there any angle you’re playing at that you want me to enhance?”

Freddie was shocked, she couldn’t form words for a second. She was sure she looked like a deer about to be killed. Her mouth open and closed like a gaping fish and the stylist only laughed lightheartedly.

“You Ones always think you’re so prepared until I ask that question. You never need to play an angle, see I was a stylist for the lower districts first. Those are the ones who need an angle to be noticed. Not you though dear, you’ve already been noticed.”

Freddie was once again speechless. There wasn’t anything more she could say other than, “I trust you.”

Kelinea smiled, Freddie noticed her teeth were also embedded with small gems, “Let’s get started then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rhye is not based on anyone really, though his name is a reference to a queen song. he is not going to be prominent or that important. he’s just there to show more about freddie.
> 
> but thank you so much for reading! it really means a lot considering i’m still trying to reacquaintance myself with writing. i hope you will like what i have planned. comments are very appreciated, i love hearing what you think!


	3. The Preparation: Joan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Joan’s plan was going to work, she was already in fair shape. Who knew she’d been such a good actress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! this was written earlier than i anticipated haha. for joan, i hope you can tell which canon victor i’ve taken inspiration from. anyways, i hope you like this chapter!

Ever since the Reaping, Joan hasn’t been able to stop crying. Sobs shook her body with the force of a tsunami, her legs refused to work. She would’ve been embarrassed that she collapsed on stage and had to be carried by her elbows into the Justice Building by Peacekeepers, but she didn’t have the energy to.

Her tribute partner seemed to be handling this much better than she was. God, she wondered how he did it. Dominic Beyrand’s face was stone when he was called. He didn’t allow himself to show any negative emotion even when in the privacy of the Justice Building.

Unlike her much more stable counterpart, Joan basically ran into her designated holding room and collapsed again near the couch. The rug was rough against her face, she could already tell there would be irritation that her prep team would need to fix. She didn’t want to think about that now. Right now, she needed to mourn for herself.

She heard her family before she saw them. Her mother was a blubbering mess, almost as bad as Joan. Julius, bless his soul, didn’t fully understand what was going on. He was ten, he knew what the Games were, but to him they were just something fun to watch. 

Through teary eyes, she looked up at them from where she lay on the floor. Her mother knelt beside her and held her close. Julius moved to hold her hand and wrapped it around himself. Even though he couldn’t know what was going to happen, he knew he wanted to be close.

“Don’t leave. Come back.” he whimpered against the side of her head while laying down next to her.

That’s what it took to bring Joan out of her daze. She wrapped her arms tight around her mother and younger brother. They were who she’d been fighting for her whole life. She’d still need to fight for them. It’s going to be tougher than ever before, but she had to fight. For her family.

Joan wiped her face in her mom’s shoulder. Normally, her mother would yell at her for that but not now. She looked Julius in the eyes and saw sadness. He just knew his sister would be leaving and might not come back. Her death would break the remaining family she had, just like her father’s death did. Not only that, but she’d be treated like an animal the whole time.

Lilian stroked her hair and rubbed her back. She needed to return home. They had been living in poverty since they lost her dad four years prior. Her mother still worked, but not as efficient thus docking her pay. So, Joan started wielding her axe at just 11. She brought in money and food for them, learning to make snares and bird traps. 

“I’ll come back one way or another,” Joan sniffled, “I swear.” 

Julius grinned up at her seeming satisfied and Lilian just turned away. Her brother didn’t understand, but her mom did. If she didn’t return a Victor, she’d return in a casket.

“I know we don’t have much, but take this with you. As your token.” Her mom smiled wetly as she clasped it in Joan’s hand. When she opened her palm, she almost started crying again. It was the necklace her father made for her mother. They could never afford anything fancy so it was made of an old bass string and carved wood. There were four letters representing each of the members of the family.

Joan held it to her heart and hugged her family tighter. She whispered one last “I love you” as the Peacekeepers pulled them apart and dragged her family away.

She still had about an hour left in the Justice Building to say goodbye. Joan has no one else visit her, she never did have friends, so she set to planning. If she ever wanted to hold her brother in her arms again, she’d need a strategy.

So, once at the train station, she was a bawling mess once again. Sobbing and even screaming in agony as the doors closed. Of course she was in pain, but she had coped on the floor of the holding room tracing patterns into the scratchy rug. 

Without any District Seven Victors to mentor the tributes, Joan was left to herself. She continued crying until she was safely alone in her room. When she looked in the mirror above the dresser in her designated bedroom for the train ride, she grinned a little maniacally. 

She appeared helpless, no one would spare her a second glance after the live Reaping and farewell footage. If Joan’s plan was going to work, she was already in fair shape. Who knew she’d been such a good actress?

She wiped her tears once again and thumbed the carvings on her wooden pendant. She was already an outlier, and a pathetic looking one at that. Pale, lanky, as well as thin with ribs poking out. But, what they didn’t see was the arms that could swing an axe to cut down trees with one swift move. They didn’t see her chopping firewood in winters or lifting and carrying logs back to the factories. She had deception on her side.

Joan wasn’t going to play fair, but the Games were never fair anyways.

…

The escort didn’t bother forcing her out of her room. Joan’s little act convinced them she was just another lamb to slaughter. Her meals were left outside her door and they were divine. The trays were packed with no less than ten plates which were all piled high and near overflowing. She never had tasted so many flavors. The meat was fresh and savory leaving rich juices on her plate that she lapped up eagerly. 

If it was up to her, she would never leave the train. She was small if she wedged herself between the wall and the closet no one would find her. Then she could eat all the lavish food she could. But of course she would never get away with that.

She only left to tiptoe to the bathroom across the car. Sometimes, she’d run into a servant or Snow forbid, Dominic. But, her head was always bowed. They were normally discouraged from conversing with a sniffle or choked sob.

Most time was spent training as quietly as she could. Joan’s room was larger than her house, so it was more than enough to run laps in. She saw the burly lumberjack working out before and copied that. Her substitute weights were heavy candelabras, her bar the strong and sturdy frame of the canopy bed. 

Training beforehand was forbidden, but everyone knew that was bullshit. The Careers have been training since they could walk. Joan was just giving herself an edge they wouldn’t anticipate.

…

The duration of the ride was a little less than a day. Joan used all that time working out, her only breaks were for water and food. Once they arrived at the Capitol, she started the waterworks again.

The prep team greeted her with uncomfortable smiles and unsatisfied stares. Her eyes were red and puffy, skin blotchy, and her whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat. They seemed more confused than anything with that combination, but didn’t question it.

Her makeover session took over three hours. Joan was more tired than she’d ever been in her entire life. That included the time she had to wake up at four in the morning and work until six am the next day. Her fingers were littered with splinters and her arms throbbed even when she moved a finger. Needless to say, she was out of commission for a while.

The team scrubbed her until her skin was red and raw then soaked her in baths with smells that made her nose scrunch up and eyes water. Her nails were buffed and painted a dark forest green color. The worst part by far was hair and waxing. 

Apparently, natural body hair was frowned upon. Why, Joan didn’t understand. When they spread the warm wax on her legs, arms, and everywhere that had hair, her tears were real. The pain was fast and searing. She knew it’d be nothing compared to being in the arena, but god did it hurt.

Her hair was washed so vigorously she was shocked she had any left. Joan was sure that her scalp would be bleeding from how thorough they were. But the prep team seemed satisfied enough with the end product so they left her bare in just a dressing gown on the cold metal table for the stylist.

The stylist seemed unimpressed again like her team, which would offend Joan if the beauty standards weren’t so different. Or if she cared. They asked her questions in a monotonous voice, simple and basic information.

“What angle are you playing at?” They questioned without looking up from their nails.

“Innocent and helpless.” Joan said without hesitation.

The stylist finally looked into her eyes and smirked a little, “Finally, one with some fire and will to live! You’re gonna make this fun for me, aren’t you?”

Joan didn’t know how to respond, this wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. But she was pleased with it nonetheless.

“Well my dear, potential Victor, let’s get your measurements. I’ll be sure to follow your vision if you provide me with more information on your strategy.”

“How do you know I have one?”

“Oh darling, all the Sevens I’ve styled before haven’t had a clue what they want. They’ve already resigned to their deaths! You’re different, though. I have faith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder who that victor is 👀
> 
> next up is brianna!


	4. The Preparation: Brianna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t just a game and I’m not becoming another one of the dead children you’ve led to their deaths.” She refused to play by anyone else’s rules than her own. If that meant she died, fine. At least it was by following her instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there.  
> ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ᵏᵉⁿᵒᵇᶦ
> 
> anyways it’s been a hot sec, i’ll explain in more depth in the end notes.

Brianna knew she’d die one day. 

Living in District Eleven damned her and all the people living there to a fate of starvation, heat stroke, or being worked to death. She could count on all her fingers ten times over how many good people she’d seen keel over dead in the fields.

Always morbidly curious, Brianna tried to guess what would eventually take her out. Her bet was on overworking herself. With her parents aging and workers to keep in mind, she was in the fields constantly. When she wasn’t, she was stressed beyond belief or working to keep their tiny home from falling into disrepair. Still, even as they partially owned the land they worked on, the Peacekeepers weren’t allowed to pity them. Owning land just gave them the right to have a small share of the crops they reaped. Anything more and they’d receive the same punishments as those who worked on other land (if the scars running up and down Brianna’s back was enough proof).

Yes, she had been whipped publicly about seven times. The flesh on her back was marred with deep, protruding scars that never fully healed. They still hurt, pain flashed through her bright and searing whenever she lifted her scythe too high or reached down to comb through berry bushes too low. The scars still caused her tremendous pain no matter what she did. On bad days Brianna could barely get up. It was all she could manage to do to not black out every time she worked in the fields. 

When it first happened, her parents’ anger was overshadowed by their concern for her. Seeing their only daughter bound to a post, stripped of her shirt with blood running down her back, for the first time would be etched in their memory forever. (Brianna had passed out about thirty licks in, which she considered herself lucky for.) Then, it happened again. And again. And  _ again _ . That’s when the anger came. Harold and Ruth just couldn’t wrap their minds around why their daughter kept doing what she did. A rebellious phase surely would’ve been crushed after the first beating, right?

By far the worst part was knowing the crops she’d stolen and was getting punished for weren’t just for her. She gave most of them out in the middle of the night, past curfew. Brianna’s parents never allowed her to get a tesserae for their family. Yet, she was still hungry. So very hungry. 

She’d take whenever the Peacekeepers weren’t looking and stow them away under her dress in a special deep pocket she sewed on the inside. There was nothing better than biting into the browned, leathery skin of a stolen apple from the orchards. Rebellion was indeed delicious. Luckily those seven whippings were the only times she got caught. She’d easily endure the pain again if it meant people ate.

Brianna would often pray to Snow she’d have a sibling to help bear the weight of simply existing like this. But she knew her family couldn’t handle the stress of another child. It was far too late for that anyways. They barely had enough food as is for the three of them. Most nights, she went to bed hungry if it meant everyone she loved and cared for had something to eat. Her ribs and spine protruded from her pale skin like mountains casting stark shadows. Even though, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Passing out occasionally was easy enough to deal with as long as everyone was content.

Still, death was something of a comfort to her. A promise that all the pain she shouldered was temporary. Brianna knew it wasn’t normal to crave that nothingless like she did. She  _ knew _ she wasn’t exactly normal in the head either. But if it helped her cope, she didn’t mind keeping on suffering in silence. 

Maybe that was why she Volunteered. To reach that final destination sooner. Being condemned to a painful, bloody death seemed much more tolerable thinking of it that way. 

… 

After the excitement of The Reaping, Brianna didn’t allow herself to feel. She kept her face scored of any expression or weakness. Her dying was inevitable but it’d be on her terms in the arena, that she was certain. The male tribute from her district, Vince Tetzlaff, was not handling this with as much outward grace as she was. He was a mess of tears, she felt just as bad for him as she did for herself.

This was her choice though. When Brianna died, she knew no matter how painful and gruesome, she’d do it again for the sake of her family with dignity. Her parents would be mad at her but she would be an adult soon, they would’ve had to deal with her making her own choices soon enough. 

But, they’d also have to say goodbye. 

As soon as Brianna sat on the dusty yet luxurious velvet couch of the holding room in the dilapidated Justice Building, her parents burst in.

“No one should ever have to bury their child!” Ruth yelled as soon as the door closed. Her mother’s eyes were brimming with angry tears. She wasn’t expecting crying, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. 

“No  _ mother  _ should ever have to do that!”

“Ruth-“

“Not now Harold. Our child chose to die without us knowing!”

“I’m not a child anymore mom!” Brianna bellowed once she got over the shock of it all.

“It’s her decision ultimately, darling. We can’t do anything about it now.”

Her mother still silently seethed, knowing there was nothing reasonably she could say more. But, that didn’t stop her from yelling directly at Brianna about her stupidity and imminent death.

So, she did what she did best when overwhelmed with emotion. Retreated into herself. 

Brianna didn’t notice she did it physically as well though, it took her father desperately pointing out how their child was breathing heavily and rocking themselves where she sat to calm her screaming mother down.

Ruth sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, jolting Brianna out of her state, “I don’t want to lose you.” Her mother and father sat on both sides of her and nearly crushed her in a hug. 

She couldn’t bring herself to hug back or say much more. Of course, Brianna told them she loved them dearly and asked them to ease the Fields’ guilt. She accepted the token her parents came up with on the fly as well, a shoelace bracelet from her father’s boot. Always the daddy’s girl.

Once they were escorted out, the escort took her and Vince to the train station for a final farewell. They tried to make it more energetic and fun, but District 11 knew they just lost two more children to the Capitol.

Safely inside of the train, Brianna immediately sought out her room for the long trip across the country to the Capitol. She couldn’t cry, she was much too numb for that. That was probably due to the fact she’d accepted that she’d die one day when she was very young. 

Stroking the shoelace around her wrist, she fell asleep to the motion of the bullet train.

…

Brianna awoke to the escort knocking on her door. It was morning already and their mentor wanted to meet with them. She slowly made her way through the sleeping car to the dining car. 

Everyone knew who Seeder was. A living legend at best, a coward at worst. The aging Victor hardly left her house in the Victor Village at all. All who saw her Games knew why, her timidity and fearfulness was known to all in the District. 

She hid the entire time. By some miracle, she was the last one standing. This disappointed everyone in the Capitol so she faded into anonymity. Well, almost.

Seeder was never meant to win. A fluke. An accident.

Brianna knew Seeder had never brought home a victor. She’d been mentoring for almost a decade, why did she even feel meeting with the two tributes were necessary?

“Hello Vince and Brianna. Eat up, this food is better than anything you’ve ever had.” The older woman greeted with a cool tone and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “We’ll start strategizing after your bellies are full.” Brianna couldn't hold in a sigh as she slumped in her chair, decidedly ignoring the strange stares she received both from the mentor and her fellow tribute. She could’ve been an almost motherly figure if 

“Is something the matter, dear?” Seeder asked with that same faux voice. She’s not a very good actress, Brianna decided.

Her fork clattered to her full plate as she seethed silently, glaring up at the mentor. 

This was something new for Seeder. Unexpected and unwelcome, she didn’t know how to deal with it.

“ _ You _ shouldn’t be telling me what to do.” Brianna huffed out an exasperated laugh, “I'd be better off dying on my own than by following your advice.”

“I don’t think you’ve given me fair chance yet-“

And how that made Brianna’s rage boil. 

“What guidance do you have then, huh? Hide and run away? No! I’m not dying as a fucking loser. I’d rather be brave and die valiantly, giving  _ them _ the show they want, than live a coward like you.” She spit out. 

Brianna almost laughed at the expression of shock and bewilderment on their faces. Surely they didn’t expect she’d follow their rules without a fight.

“This isn’t just a game and I’m not becoming another one of the dead children you’ve led to their deaths.” She refused to play by anyone else’s rules than her own. If that meant she died, fine. At least it was by following her instincts.

Brianna continued to eat, not paying Vince or Seeder any mind. 

...

After her outburst, Brianna didn’t apologize. Why would she, she’d be dead within the next week anyways. She refused to eat any meals with the mentor and tribute. Instead, she took them in the library car. It was the only car with a television.

She ordered the escort to gather any tapes of previous games they could find on the train. Surprisingly, it was nearly fifteen years worth, much to Brianna’s joy. 

The Games weren’t particularly pleasant to watch, not at all. Still, she grit her teeth and watched through the many gorey hours of them. Playing the tapes at quadrupled the normal speed, Brianna got through them just as they were scheduled to arrive at the Capitol.

Never leaving the cart, the servants brought her whatever she asked of them. She felt strange ordering around Avoxes whom, according to rumors, did acts of rebellion the President didn’t like. Her requests were always much more polite than her interactions with the escort or any true capitolites she’d encountered. They always brought much more food than she could ever eat, yet she still ate it all.

By the morning the next day, Brianna’s eyes were red from staring at the screen for so long. She couldn’t care less, she’d learned more than she could’ve ever hoped to with Seeder. She’d stand out just enough to give a performance, but not visibly be a threat. 

Brianna knew it wasn’t a solid strategy, but it gave her an unexpected advantage.

…

Once the tense District Eleven train pulled into the Capitol, the tributes were whisked off to be Remade.

Snow, Brianna was  _ not _ looking forward to that.

She was immediately met with a team of bored yet curious looking stylists. They guided her to a room that smelled clean in a stinging and sharp way. Stripped of her clothes and dignity, the team got to work.

Starting with bathing her in near boiling water and scrubbing her with more soaps and substances she could remember, Brianna came out shining. Then was the waxing. Every undesirable hair was plucked, ripped, or torn from her already raw body. Why this would help her in the Games, she didn’t know.

They combed through her unruly hair with such vigor her neck almost snapped. Brianna never paid much mind to it, her mane was more a nuisance that got in her way than anything. But the team seemed to take quite a liking to it, cooing over the newly washed and cared for ringlets with pride. Her clothing stylist barged in as soon as the team deemed her Remade to their standards.

“What angle are you playing?” they asked without looking at her. Brianna was caught off guard by their bluntness and lack of introduction. Maybe that was how things were done in the Capitol, she reasoned.

“Make me memorable.”

The stylist had the nerve to snort at that, “Was planning on it, honey. I gotta get promoted to a better District somehow.”

Her anger took over, blinding her with red fog. When Brianna came back to it, she had the stylist pushed against the wall with her arm crushing their throat. Well, she was already dying anyways, she couldn’t back down from acting out. 

She recovered her bite quick enough, “You will do more than that. You are going to do the best fucking work of your life or I’ll make sure you won’t live the rest of it. Understand?” Brianna snarled, hardly recognizing her own voice.

The stylist nodded frantically, their eyes bugging out of their head.

“Good,” Brianna smiled as she released them, enjoying how they gasped for air, “I’m glad we both understand.”

She walked to the door before turning back at the last minute, “Oh, and if you say anything about what happened in here… I’ll kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writers block really is a bitch.
> 
> brianna was originally the character i was most excited to write, she was the reason i started this fic against my better judgement. i started writing this chapter almost as soon as i was done with the previous, but it just wasn’t clicking. brianna seemed so static and white savior-like. i still am not fond of how she’s turning out but i hope it comes off better than it does in my head.
> 
> anyways, the feedback this has gotten makes it all worth it. kudos/comments are appreciated! leave your thoughts please, theyre very helpful to consider while writing!


	5. The Preparation: Regina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were crowds screaming and chanting her name. Her name. Not Mark, not anyone else. All for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello long time no see! i’ve actually been super busy i’ve literally just moved from an island state to continental united states all in one day for schooling. i’m really tired but i wrote this on the plane, no guarantees it’s great. i was half asleep when writing haha.

Regina’s relationship with the ocean was a complicated one. Being for District Four, of course she knew it like the back of her hand. The gentle rocking waves were always a comfort to her. 

Until she lost someone to it.

Her name was Lily. She looked just like any other girl from Four. Lean, tanned, light hair. But she stood out to Regina.

They met in the training club one day. Lily was two years her senior, small ten year old Regina looked up to her. She was the best of the girls, even at twelve the teachers could tell she’d be the one to volunteer.Her icy grey eyes held something behind them and the young girl desperately wanted to find out what.

She was her shadow, the older girl could’ve easily shook her off or pushed her into the sand. But she didn’t. She decided to take Regina under her wing and teach her all she knew. But that relationship soon evolved into something more. Something Regina still couldn’t name. 

Lily was something special, the two girls shared many nights together stargazing on the beach cliffs looking over the water. On one of those many nights watching the waves rock, Regina leaned in closer. 

And closer. 

And still closer, their lips brushing against each other’s lightly. Lily brought her in closer and finally kissed her.

Their rendezvous didn’t change much, they still giggled and talked until sunrise. But just with more lingering touches and kisses.

Love felt too simple yet big. It was far past fancying each other too. 

The night before the volunteers would be announced in Lily’s eighteenth year, she wasn’t at the cliff where they normally met. Regina grew worried soon but chalked it up to last minute nerves. She knew she’d be volunteering, everyone did. So she waited. 

And waited. 

And still waited. What she didn’t expect was to see as the sun illuminated the clear blue sea was a body floating in the current. She ran down the pathway, nearly tripling and falling off the cliff herself. 

There was so much blood on the rocks at the bottom. Too much to be an accident, but that was something Regina kept to herself. She knew Lily found a way out of the Games. It was her destiny and she didn’t want it, that much was obvious now. 

Regina wished she could’ve caught on to the slight hints she now noticed in every conversation she replayed in her mind. So she did what she could think of.

Cover her tracks.

The trek up to the cliff she leapt from was much harder with the sobs wracking through her body and tears clouding her vision. But she tromped up the sand, dirt, and grass at the top. There was mud from earlier when it rained. Regina just added messy footprints that slid off the edge with some handprints as well grasping for solid ground. The Peacekeepers wouldn’t know the difference between a real struggle and a fake one. She looked one last time to where her lover lay crumpled on the rocks. She made the promise to herself then.

She was going to volunteer no matter what. And she’d never return to District Four ever again after she’d won.

It wasn’t home without her.

…

Outside the Justice Building window, the ocean was visible. She could hear the waves crashing. For once she longed to return to it, to let it’s warm caress hold her and rock her to sleep. 

Regina had duties now though. She was going to win. For  _ her _ .

She turned away and tapped her manicured nails against each other. There was a quick rap on the door before the mayor accompanied with Peacekeepers came in to escort her to the train station. 

Regina smiled and waved at the crowd trying to appear more distinguished than her prideful District counterpart. 

_ God _ , she wanted to clobber him. 

The way he looked at her like she was meat made her skin crawl. Mark Austin was not a good person, she could tell that much. Regina would be sure to lock her cabin door extra tight that night.

…

At the Capitol, she was sure she’d go deaf. There were crowds screaming and chanting her name.  _ Her _ name. Not Mark, not anyone else. All for her.

Without even talking, she’d won over the audience. Regina allowed herself to be proud even if she was sure it was because of how she looked. Deep down she knew they wanted to sink their claws into her and bid on her virginity contract after she won. 

Still, this is what she signed up for. She knew it’d happen. Anything was better than her coastal town haunted by the ghost of Lily. Even if it meant selling her body to those with the most money.

Regina’s smile flattered minisculey, she recovered just as quick though. Seeing Mark seething our the corner of her eye was a good enough ego boost as any.

When the giant doors to the Remake Center closed she turned to him and smiled sweetly. Too sweet, she was sure he could tell she was being condescending. 

“Maybe next time, champ.” She fake pouted at him and patted his back before following her stylists. Hearing his huff of anger was so gratifying her grin never dropped even as the team tore her hair out her body.

Regina was too busy imagining ways to kill him in his sleep during her watch in the Career alliance. She’d do it slow she decided. Cut his tongue out first like an Avox so he couldn’t scream and alert the others. Then she’d gut him like a fish. No, that’d be obvious it was her. She’d claw his eyes out and feed them to him until he choked to death.

A fitting death for a filthy little boy who’s eyes wandered too much. They wouldn’t anymore once she was done with him.

…

In a private room, Regina chatted with her head stylist. The Remaking didn’t take long at all, just a quick soak and hair washing with removal. Nothing major she wasn’t used to.

She was kind to them, flattery was always a great weapon.

“So dear, is there any angle you’re planning to play.”

Regina paused a beat, she knew the answer to that. But was it something she’d be willing to share?

She shook her head to herself finally, “I just want to look pretty, which I’m sure someone as talented as you wouldn’t have a problem with.” Regina finished with an award winning grin and wink.

The stylist flushed and assured her she’d make her the most beautiful tribute in the whole Games.

Being a pretty girl certainly had its perks, no one thought anything was going on in the brain. They were always underestimated and assumed that they just weren’t as aware as the others.

Regina was about to prove them wrong. So wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this is much shorter than the others but i cant be bothered to check right now. as always, comments and kudos are appreciated! thank you for reading!


End file.
